Mutiny Aboard the Black Pearl
by Nega Link
Summary: A one shot that tells of the mutiny aboard the Pearl.


Captain Jack Sparrow was not having a good day from any perspective. And from most perspectives he was standing tied with brine soaked cords, on a wooden plank extended from the side of an enormous black ship, staring down into the brilliant aquamarine depths of the Caribbean Sea. The jeering from the crew behind him rang in his ears as he sighed through gritty/gold teeth and wondered how it had all come to this. Old Jones would have a thing or two to say if he had seen the illustrious Captain Jack Sparrow now.

A harsh voice from the midst of the throng broke through the jeering.

"Now lads," the unmistakable voice chortled in mock respect. "What man Jack here don't 'ave somethin' nice to say about our good friend Captain Jack Sparrow?" Jack could tell that his, now ex-first mate, James Barbossa was enjoying his role as rebel leader a bit too much. Barbossa continued his soliloquy with the flair of a raggedly clad sea-faring Richard Burbage. "an' whom o' ye assembled here don't want to thank him graciously for plottin' an' schemin' to take for himself the lion's share o' the treasure of Mortè and leave us all scrapin' the bottom o' the barrel?" Barbossa was going out on a limb here, but Jack wasn't about to argue with a man with a gun pointed point blank at his back…at least not too much.

"Acctually mister Barbossa," he began, turning to face the vehement crowd, "I had intended to as you say take a…shall we call it…. presumptuous share o' the treasure, me being Captain and all that, but in light of your apparent aversion to said schemey scheme I'm ready an' willing to negotiate more pleasing terms for all concerned."

Barbossa appeared slightly taken aback by Jack's sudden outburst but he was too used to Jack's language of persuasion to let it faze him over much.

"I'm listening," He growled at the man he would soon kick into the sea. Jack made as if to step down off of the plank but the metallic click of Barbossa's pistol cocking changed his mind.

"What say you unshackle me hands an' I steer us a course to jolly ol' Iles De Muretè upon which time I'll give up seventy-five percent of my originally intended share o' plunder and piferings to be divided amongst the crew eh? Jolly good deal I'd call it." Barbossa laughed long and hard, his yellow teeth bared as his cracked lips curled in a vicious sneer.

"Aye Jack, I'd call it a good deal me'self. But I'm afraid ye've forgotten two important things mate." Jack was surprisingly at a loss for words. He fingered the beaded strands of beard that hung from his chin and cringed. "Firstly, you've already given me the bearin's to yer precious Island, an secondly ave' ye considered it into yer calculations that with ye out o' the way the remaining twenty-five percent can be divided amongst the crew as well?" Laughter rose from the crowd, Barbossa was landing verbal hits with the crew left and right while Jack swung at air. As the laughter died down a barely audible murmur rose from the crowd and Barbossa whirled around.

"Boson," he growled, motioning towards the crowd with his pistol, "Bring that man forward." The rough Bosun and his mate lunged into the crowd and brought the cringing man forward. He was about thirty-four years of age, his long black hair tied raggedly with a leather thong. He wore a tattered skullcap and an old black sea coat, no doubt stolen from some drunk in Tortuga. Barbossa eyed the man fiercly. "Did ye have something you wanted to tell me Mister Turner?" he hissed. The man cringed but did not cower.

"Well sir…" he mumbled fearfully, "I was just going to say…well…Jack's not a bad sort, maybe we could take him up on his offer? Seeing how he were good enough to see things our way." Barbossa's eyes were like smoldering coals as he scowled at the man. The rest of the crew began to boo the unfortunate sailor.

"Are ye goin' soft Bill?" One bellowed, another jeered, "Yer either with us or agin' us Bootstrap!" Barbossa didn't say a word. Jack took the opportunity to put his two pence in.

"See, now that there is a sailor with a head on his shoulders, aye?" The pistol whipped back around to point at him.

"I don't believe ye fully comprehend the severity of your situation Jack." Barbossa growled. He turned to face Turner. "Will ye be joinin' "Captain" Jack on 'is island paradise bootstrap?" He asked. The sailor ashamedly shook his head. "Good. I'll let ye go for now. But should you cause me any trouble again I'll be strappin' a cannon to those bootstraps Bootstrap. I'm sure you'll make a fine addition to Davy Jones' locker." He pushed Turner back into the crowd of sailors and returned his attention to Jack who was rapidly forming another plan. 'Have ye anything else to say Jack?' he asked politely. Jack smile awkwardly and then straitened his face out, all business.

"You know Barbossa, I've heard strange tales told about this here island thingumy yer so hell bent on sailing off to. They say that the gold in the chest is under a strange curse. I had been thinkin' o' turnin' back myself an' headed to pillage…Cuba…or something o' that sort. I don't think it would be wise to tempt fate…savvy?"

"I think I'll be takin' me chances Jack," Barbossa laughed.

"Come now let's be reasonable!" Jack moaned, grasping at straws. "We're both gentlemen o' fortune. Rouges and scallywags eh? Partners in crime wot? I…I…I'll give ye me cabin, me rum ration, ye can even have me hat if you like." Barbossa was grinning wickedly from ear to ear.

"Why thank ye Jack. But I think I'll buy me own hat. With the treasure o' muretà I'm sure I could find something suitable for the new captain o' the Black Pearl. I was thinking of something big, with lots o' feathers." He had slowly been backing Jack down the length of the plank and now he stood on the edge, balancing precariously above the deep blue water. "Now Jack,' He began again, "The crew o' the Pearl, meself included, don't want to see ye go without a little keepsake to remember us by. Hans! Bring it fore'ard." A pockmarked, barefoot sailor shambled up to Barbossa and handed him a bundle that clanked as though there were metal inside. "In here be yer sword, yer bloody broken compass, and yer pistol, freshly loaded with one shot as is the custom." He hefted the bundle and threw it down where it splashed into the water directly below the end of the plank. Jack was desperate now.

"Parley?" He pleaded half-heartedly.

"I'm disinclined to acquiesce to yer request.," Barbossa grinned.

"I'm sorry?"

"Means no."

Barbossa booted foot came down hard on the boatside end of the plank and as it rebounded Jack lost his balance and plunged into the abyss.


End file.
